Seventeen Pots of Hydrangeas
On the nineteenth day after giving birth, I told my mother something felt wrong.
She didn't even look up.
"Who isn't exhausted after having a baby? I didn't have anyone helping me after I gave birth, and I still got through it."
After that, I stopped talking about it.
At night, when Noah cried, I got up to warm his bottle. My hands shook so badly that I dropped it on the floor.
Carol ran out of her room barefoot. The first thing she said was, "Are you doing this on purpose?"
Once, a nurse from the clinic came out for a postpartum home visit and asked how I was feeling.
Before I could answer, my mother cut in.
"What could possibly be wrong with her? She eats my food, lives under my ro